


Feel the Pounding

by HarmoniaChimera



Series: Kiss The Burns Away (Singsong Fallout Reacts) [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Based on an ABBA Song, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fallout Reacts, Ghoul Sex, Light Angst, Older Man/Younger Woman, Period-Typical Racism, Shameless Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 05:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniaChimera/pseuds/HarmoniaChimera
Summary: Anonymous asked: Hello dear! I just love your writing! Could i request a young!fem sole (around 19/20) x Hancock inspired by the song ”Does Your Mother Know?” by ABBA? Plus for smut hehe, love you!





	Feel the Pounding

_{Your feelings are driving you wild}_

“So what brings you to these parts?” he asks, pouring them both a drink.

“I’m looking for my son. His name is Shaun, and he’s–”

The bottle clangs loudly against the table, stopping Sole mid-sentence. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re looking for your  _what??”_

“For my  _who_ ,” Sole corrects indignantly, but Hancock’s not listening anymore at this point.

“How did you get yourself a kid? I mean, you look like you’re– How old are you?”

Sole chokes on her drink and coughs when it hits her that she’s actually closer to 230 years old than anything else. But she can’t say that, can she? Still, did the time in the freezer have any effect on her or is she, biologically, still the same age as before?

And when was the last time anyone asked her that? Could it have been Nate? On her last birthday?

“I’m, um… I’m twenty.”

“ _Twenty??_  And you have a kid? How did that happen? Has anyone–?”

“No, no, no, no, no. We just started early, me and my husband.”

“Your– No, I give up.” Hancock threw his hands up, then got up and paced around the room. “And where is he now, your husband?”

“…He’s dead.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

They sit in silence for a while, disturbed only by the sound of alcohol being poured into both their glasses by Hancock’s burnt hand. Again. Sole can already feel the buzz making her heart thump with the force of a brahmin kick, but it doesn’t stop her from downing this one as well. Hancock doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

 

 _{I can chat with you, baby_  
_Flirt a little, maybe_  
_Does your mother know that you’re out?}_

“So what about the rest of your family?” Hancock asks softly, pouring her another one, though it’s a visibly smaller amount. Sole just shrugs and decides to take her time with this one, too. Hancock’s black eyes seem to be following every move of her hand and she can’t help but feel hot under that gaze.

Hancock downs two more drinks before she’s finished with hers, and only then does she notice the unmistakable glint in his eye, indicating he, too, is starting to feel the effects of whatever it is that they’re drinking. Sole, for some reason, can’t take her gaze off of Hancock’s face, tracing the scarring’s intricate patterns, the lines forming all the bumps and valleys, revealing small windows of dry flesh and muscle moving beneath. It’s awfully gross, but also somewhat… fascinating. She wants to know how it would feel under her fingers.

“You okay there, girl?” Hancock catches her hand mid-air. Sole just stares at him in surprise, only now realizing what she was about to do.

“Uh… Yeah. Yeah.” She retracts her hand, feeling the blush creep up her cheeks.

“You looked positively mesmerized for a minute there,” he continues in the lightest of tones as he pours her another small portion of amber liquor. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

“Umm…” She blushes even more, downing it in one gulp. “I just, uh… I’ve never been this close to a Ghoul before.”

He raises his hairless brow. “Really?”

“Well, not to one that isn’t trying to kill me, at least.” She lets out a soft sigh, relieved to have told him, but also trying to ignore the desperate fluttering of her heart. Was it fear or… something else?

Hancock chuckles softly, filling up his own drink, then putting the bottle aside. “I think we might need to take it easy on the booze,” he says and immediately belies himself by gulping down the entirety of his glass.

 

_{I can see what you want  
But you seem pretty young to be searching for that kinda fun}_

Blood runs hot in her veins. She tries her best to explain to herself that it’s just the alcohol taking over, that it’s just a reaction. She’s never drunk so much in one go in her life. Not even at the wedding. She never really liked the taste of alcohol in the first place. But this man here, in front of her, is so overwhelming she doesn’t even feel it when she’s pouring it down her throat. It might as well be purified water.

And so, parts of her keep disbelieving the whole alcohol story, and she finds herself looking deeper and deeper into Hancock’s black ghoulish eyes. She takes deep breaths even though she knows she’s well past the point of calming down. He smells of dust and chems, but there’s also the slightest hint of a damp forest, even though he doesn’t look like he leaves the city much, or ever. But it reminds her of all the times she camped on the road, snuggling into a warm sleeping bag, dying embers of the fire glistening softly in the dark while the undergrowth embraced her and carried her to sleep.

She inches closer to Hancock, eyes tracing down the ridge of what’s left of his nose all the way down to his thin, pale lips. They twist into a soft paternal smile.

“Yep. That is definitely more than enough for you, girl.” He takes her glass away as she huffs indignantly at the name.

“That’s interesting,” she mutters in reply. “You weren’t nearly so patronizing when you wanted me to murder a bunch of raiders for you.”

Hancock throws her a surprised smile, then bursts out laughing. “It wasn’t even clear that you were female under all that gear, no way I could gauge your age,” he quips.

She wants to keep sulking, but the rhyming makes her crack up, too, until she finally sighs and rubs her eyes, setting back against the couch. Hancock winks at her from his spot across the room.

“But now you’re sitting there in that summer dress and you look like a baby. Seriously, I mean…  _You’re so cute_ ,” he teases again, and she’s just about to throw a grenade at him when his face suddenly sets into something more serious and honest. He nods softly to himself. “ _I like your style._ ”

The compliment sends a surge of heat through her body and she takes a deeper breath, suddenly unable to hold his gaze. She starts casually looking around the room, like the décor of his office is going to give her any notion as to what to do next. Even though the mood has sort of dissipated, she can’t ignore the warm sticky wetness between her thighs, making itself known with the slightest move. It’s been very, very long since she last felt like this, but it was, in all senses of the word, unmistakable.

Hancock finally makes his way back to the couch and plops next to her with a proud grin, splaying his arms along the back.

“I can’t even remember what we were talking about,” he chuckles, and she can almost see his defenses dropping just with the proximity.

“Oh?” Her lips twist up coyly. “Could it be that the, uh, alcohol is starting to take effect on you, too?”

Hancock gives one last weak chuckle, then turns a little to meet her gaze. She immediately melts into his bottomless eyes. “Look,  _I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile.”_  He did a circle with his finger, pointing at her mouth, but then looked down. His hand moved slowly to gently brush against hers. “ _But girl, you’re only a child.”_

 _“Excuse_ me?” She recoils, pulling away. “You seem to have very special rules of conduct regarding  _children_ , Hancock. Sure, giving them a gun and sending them on a rampage is great, but–-”

“I’m nearly twice your age.”

“Who gives a shit?” She chuckles wryly. “Look around, Hancock. The world is fucking broken, I don’t know if you’ve noticed. Everyone we knew and loved is gone. Is it really so wrong to want to forget about that for a split second?”

“I like to think I last longer than that,” he mutters indignantly. She lets out a sigh and shakes her head, throwing him a black look. “And no, it’s not wrong at all,” he adds placatingly. “I just…  _I’m not the one_  for you.”

She blinks at him for a couple of second. “So  _that’s_  what this is about?” She scoffs, rubbing her forehead before she finally sets sideways against the back of the couch, hooking her elbow on it. “Now I get it. It’s not about my age, or about whether it’s wrong, or about a potential scandal if your people found out, or anything like that. It’s about the simple fact that I look younger than I am and you  _want_  me, and you can’t handle it.” He doesn’t answer, just keeps staring into the distance, taking in everything she throws at him. “I mean… You have no idea how out of bounds this is for  _me_. Me being attracted to you goes against every rule I’ve ever been taught, against every value I’ve grown up with, against even my basic survival instinct, because like I mentioned, my previous experiences with ghouls weren’t really the greatest so far.”

“So it’s a race thing?” He gives her a glare.

“Of course it’s a race thing!” She throws her hands up like it should’ve been obvious. “My grandfather’s rolling around in his grave right now if he can see me like this.” She lets out a soft sigh, and after a second, she continues, “But it’s also a betrayal of the memory of my husband. And instead of sitting here having drinks with you, I should be out there looking for my son.” She sniffled softly. “So really, there is a multitude of rational reasons for me to get up and leave right now.” She sighed again, looking at Hancock from beneath heavy eyelids. “And yet these feelings are still sticking around.”

He doesn’t offer any kind of reply, looking away again, so she just scoffs and says, “But you’re right. The age difference is the insurmountable obstacle,” before getting up and prancing towards the door. “Goddammit,” she just mumbles under her breath, when her gaze falls on the glass she was just drinking from. She’s such an idiot.

Suddenly, there’s a wiry hand clamping around her arm like a vice, then impact of a firm wall against her back, then suddenly a burnt face nuzzling into her neck, raining kisses on her smooth skin. She gasps and moans, turning into putty in his hands as he works her with skill she never encountered before. Is that what he meant about the age difference? Does he think she can’t handle him? Or that she’s going to be the worst lover he’s ever been with?

He doesn’t give her time to ponder that when he turns her around again, pressing her cheek to the cold plaster and flaky wallpaper, hands closing tightly around her waist to keep her in place while he explores every inch of her neck, taking her breath and strength away. She gives in to him readily, the wetness between her thighs spreading slightly against the fabric of her dress.

His hand creeps up her back, fiery shivers following in its wake, working its way up to Sole’s head. The fingers entwine into her hair, sliding across her skull, and then suddenly close tightly, pulling her head back. Her lips fall open with a gasp that turns into a loud moan as soon as Hancock’s lips are back on the nook of her neck. God, those kisses were making her so weak in the knees, she would’ve surely keeled over by now if his lean body wasn’t pressing her against the wall.

His other hand wriggles on her waist, pooling the fabric between its fingers, slowly exposing her thighs. Sole barely overcomes the sudden feeling of panic that comes on with the realization of what she got herself into, and she knows she won’t be able to keep it at bay for long. “Wait…” she huffs softly even as she bites her lips with the pleasure of his kisses. “Hancock, wait…”

He slows to a stop, lips brushing up her neck to reach her ear. “What is it?” he asks softly. Maybe there was some good to the whole fucking age difference thing. Her husband, who happened to be the same age as her–he’d never stop just because of a whisper. And here Hancock’s hand is falling away from her hair, easing its grip until she’s free. It brushes down her bare arm with a feather-touch on its way to her hips.

“I…” she gasps as a shiver went down her spine. “I wanna see you.”

She only hears a soft chuckle from behind. “Oh? And what happened to all the rules and values you grew up with?” Hancock teases, taking a small step back to let her turn to face him, though his hands never leave her body.

“I always hated them.” She reaches up to his lips, realizing she  _really_  wants to know how a ghoul tastes. And Hancock obliges readily.

There’s something tangy to the taste of his tongue, a bit like the alcohol they were just drinking, but somehow she feels it had nothing to do with this. She dips in even further, arms wrapping around his neck. One hand pulls off his tricorn hat and throws it away before setting on the back of his head. The other falls steady against his shoulders. He leans over her slightly, pulling her in by her waist, and she kisses him like there’s going to be no tomorrow once again.

She falls away only to look him deep in the eye as he grabs blindly at the hem of her dress, then slips his hands underneath, rubbing strongly up her thighs until he reaches her hips. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he grunts and she can’t tell if she’s about to faint because of his low, hoarse tembre, because of the ‘sweetheart’, or because he pulls her up to straddle his hips as he secures her against the wall.

“Oh, God,” she mumbles, going for one more kiss as the haze overtakes her mind. Everything he did was so intense and hot she could barely handle it.

“‘John’ will suffice,” he quips with a grin as he pulls away to look her in the eye with the fiercest gaze that makes her melt and groan even as she chuckles. With his eyes set on hers, lips slightly parted in a quick, hot breath spattered with an occasional soft grunt of arousal, and his chest pressed firmly against hers, he looked  _yummy_. Even with that caricature of the nose and the radiation-burn scars covering his entire body. Even without hair or fingernails. Even with the muscles moving unsettlingly right beneath his skin. If she wasn’t three feet in the air right now, she’d already be on her knees, testing out her meager skills on his ghoulish cock.

He reaches around her thigh to fumble with his pants while his other hand still holds her hips up. Sole’s breath quickens as she realizes there is less and less fabric between them with every second. It’s all so intense and passionate, and  _hot_ , more so than she ever experienced, and she, now, isn’t sure if she can handle  _him_. She pulls him in for another desperate kiss, like that’s going to help her build some confidence.

“Hey,” he whispers after a second as she pants into his mouth, barely catching her breath. “ _Take it easy. Try to cool it, girl.”_

“Call me a girl one more time,” she growled, fingers tightening against his skull. “I dare you.”

He just groans in response, cock brushing against her underwear as he finally manages to free it from its leather confines. She gasps softly at the sensation. Somehow she’s certain it’s probably better for her that she can’t see it from her perspective. Instead, she just kisses him again, trying to grind her hips against him. She’s so scared and so impatient at the same time, she has no idea what to do with herself.

“It’s okay,” he coos, thumb brushing against her thigh in a calming motion. “I gotcha, girl. We’ll  _ **take it nice and slow**_.”

She  _was_  going to choke him in anger, but instead she just whines with need, pressing up against him. Hancock gathers up some spit with his fingers and the cool against her cunt is the only warning she gets before he puts himself to her entrance and starts pushing up while letting her slowly go. She gasps and moans but twists against him, trying to navigate him inside blindly with just her hips. Hancock huffs a couple of times before a louder groan escapes his throat as he finally slides slowly in.

She can’t really tell if he’s really that big or if she's just very much out of practice, but the pain is unbearable, even though it somehow makes her insides explode with pleasure. And when he starts moving, picking up the pace practically with every minute, she throws her head back, a long loud moan tearing through her throat. “Fuck…” she only sobs, and Hancock chuckles against her neck.

“Who’s lasting a split second now, huh?” he quips, but at the same time he speeds up even more, working through her clenched down cunt and she grabs onto him for dear life, moaning like a pained whore. She could swear he’s turning her inside out but  _fuck her_  if it doesn’t feel marvelous.

“John,” she moans his name, and he looks up at her with something like a smirk in the corner of his mouth. He definitely knows what he’s doing to her. “John, it’s too much…”

“You asked for it, didn’t you?” he teases, then hisses when her fingers easily rake his neck open.

“Fuck  _yes_ ,” she replies, eyes rolling back in her skull every time he bottoms out. “Please don’t stop, please…” she huffs, breath getting pushed out of her chest with every one of his strong thrusts. “John, fuck, fuck, fuck, please…” she begs. “Please fuck me more, oh Goood…”

He grins again, lips busying themselves with her neck while he holds her hips up and fucks into them like a professional gigolo–-which she wouldn’t really put beneath him. He does look and  _feel_  like the kind of guy who once rocked the streets of Diamond City. “I want you,” he groans, face buried somewhere between her neck and breast. “I want more of you.”

“God, fuck, yes, take it all!” she groans breathlessly, head hanging back. She doesn’t even know exactly what he said. She only knows everything he’s doing feels like heaven and she never wants him to stop.

Still, it does  _come_ to a stop with Hancock’s arms wrapping tightly around her and face buried in her chest as he lets out several long groans, strong splurts shooting into her and flowing out in thick ropes falling slowly to the ground. Somehow, she can’t let go of him for the longest time after, and they end up sitting on the couch again, Sole straddling Hancock’s hips while she comes down from the longest series of orgasms she’s ever had.

_{Does your mother know?}_


End file.
